She was the me to you
And now you are away from her
And I was getting cold looking a picture of the face of you and her
And now she is us in your dreams of a fantasy
And here I was thinking you were the one that loves me
And that was what life called the pain of love
In a soliloquy of passion and romance.
I loved the moon as the mist of air
And it took me for a ride and called me yours
And then I was hers and now you were mine
The same time I made the waves of us into a necklace of seashells
Of us in a locket that had my heart along with the butterflies as art.
She was a whisper I thought I would be the one to say I loved her
Even after she showed her true colors through a kaleidoscope of memories through now and
the past but that was then and all I know is that I was her as I am now and that is why
she will always be my love letters of poetry.
YOU ARE READING
The me to you, The me to her, The me to him, The me of you and me, in our dreams
PoetryMy love letters of poetry to you Was the last memory that became the start of the dream And the only voice that becomes reality is the one I write in my stories from my dreams of you.
